Monday, November 26, 2012

Good gravy you people made it difficult to hide this for 3
months. Jesse and I will be welcoming our very own offspring into the world in
June. See?

Now you've also seen my ovaries and the inside of my uterus.

Consider this my obligatory "announcement." I've decided that the best way to sum up my experiences for the last 3 months is to make a list that breaks down the joy that is the first trimester.

Sara: Hey, you know what sucks? The Wellesley Effect. A phenomenon where women who live in close quarters experience synchronized menstrual cycles. Specifically, it sucks when only one of you gets pregnant. The other one gets to have ghosted symptoms for a good couple of weeks, regardless of the fact they're not even getting a little alien mutant thing out of it. What in the actual fuck, biology?

If you
suspect your friend might be pregnant – DON’T ASK FOR THE SAKE OF FUCK.
Everyone knows that it's common practice to wait until you’re out of your
first trimester to tell everyone because your
risk of miscarriage or the baby not having a heartbeat are actually fairly
high. It’s, um, awkward to tell everyone you’re pregnant, and then have to
tell everyone you’re, uh, not anymore. So if you notice your friend is
looking a little bloated, or eating really bland foods, or isn’t drinking
beer when she normally would – keep it the fuck to yourself! It’s
terrifying when someone asks you in that accusatory tone (like you didn’t
do your homework or something), “Are you pregnant?” Holy shit! NO! I’m
just REALLY into being the designated driver! Keep. That shit. To yourself. Stop interrogating me.

Trying
to keep it a secret is really hard if you’re a booze-hound like me. As soon
as I order a water when I’m at the Diamond Knot – EVERYONE AND THEIR MOM
WILL KNOW I’M KNOCKED UP.

Sore boobs. Oh my god. The sore boobs. They have grown 2 cup sizes, and I have suffered. Walking hurts, putting on a bra hurts, moving hurts, looking at and thinking about them hurts.

The fatigue. Here is an example of a typical day - 9am: Why am I so tired? I went to bed at 9pm. That's 12 hours. 2pm: If I don't take a nap, I am going to collapse or puke. 4pm: Wake up from nap, feel slightly rested. And why the fuck did I lay on my stomach because my boobs feel like someone used them as a punching bag while I was alseep. 8pm: Can I go to bed yet? Why do I want to go to bed? 8:45pm: Fuck it, I'm going to sleep. 9am: Wake up and repeat.

There
is no such thing as morning sickness. It’s all day sickness. I spent a lot
of time asking myself, “Am I hungry or do I want to barf?” Luckily I never
got THAT nauseous. I just felt queasy all the time. It’s like being hung-over; only it lasts for 3 months, and you didn't even get to have any fun the night
before.

Pooping.
You would miss it, too.

Peeing.
I have to every half hour.

That
pregnancy “glow?” It’s caused by excess progesterone, which makes your
skin produce more natural oils. Another name for my pregnancy glow is
acne. People who lie to you about the joys of pregnancy decided to use the
misleading word “glow” instead of “you'll look like you're going through puberty again.”

Bloating.
Oh, look at my cute little baby bump! Nope, it’s gas, in and around my
uterus. Can I fit into these pants today? Probably not because I had
broccoli and cabbage with my dinner last night. Right now, at 13 weeks, it's definitely a baby bump - but still subject to gas extension. Awesome, right?

The stuff you're not supposed to eat is ridiculous. - Only one cup of coffee per day. One day, I had a cup of coffee then had a latte later in the afternoon. I know, I'm a monster! - No deli meat unless you heat it in the microwave until steaming. Gross. - No smoked or cured meats (smoked salmon, prosciutto, salami, basically anything delicious). - No soft cheese. I totally ate some brie one night and have put goat cheese in my eggs. Call CPS! - No more medium rare steaks, make it well done. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to bastardize a beautiful piece of red meat by cooking the pink out of it because ehrmagerd teh baby might not like it! - No runny egg yolks. What? No fried eggs over-easy? This is offensive and unacceptable. I will NOT be subjected to cooked egg yolks and I WILL have runny egg yolk over my breakfast hash.

So that's it. The first 3 months in all their glory. If you end up having/had a fantastic time during your first trimester, then screw you.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

It is our distinct pleasure to thank you all for registering for this year’s
Turkey Shoot soccer tournament! We are very excited to host one of the largest
recreational youth soccer tournaments in the state this year, and we hope you
are just as excited to take part. We have been in charge of this tournament for
a long time (15+ years!) and we have loved being a part of it each and every
year. But before the first games start on the 16th, however, we’d
like to call your attention to a few guidelines that will help to keep this
tournament running smoothly and efficiently, both this year and in the future.

You may have noticed during the registration process that your team’s age and
gender bracket were missing from the website. That indicates that the bracket
is already full and is no longer accepting any more teams’ registrations. That
way we can begin scheduling games as quickly as possible. However, many teams
signed up for another age or gender bracket instead, thinking that as long as
their registration was received, we would schedule accordingly. That is fucking
retarded. Seriously. All that does is fuck everything up. We are not goddamn
psychics, people. If you sign up your U-15 boys’ team in the U-12 girls’
bracket, we are going to assume that you’re a bunch of 11-year-old girls,
because that’s the fucking logical conclusion. Then, when you show up to play a
bunch of little girls, we’re going to have you cited for juicing them with
steroids until they resemble 14-year-old boys. Then point and laugh at your
stupid ass while you walk off the field in shame. Jesus…get your shit together
people.

Don’t bring your dog to the fields. There are no dogs allowed on any of our
facilities. We don’t give a single fuck about how well-behaved he is. Leave
Fido at home. He’ll be fine for a few hours. Promise.

If for some reason Lindsay, our beloved tournament director, has decided to
make an exception such as…say…opening up registration especially for your team
to sign up late because of extenuating circumstances, don’t forget to do it.
And if she opens it up a second time…don’t forget to do it then, either. Or the
third time. Or even the fourth. And if you have gotten to this point, don’t
leave an apologetic voice mail blaming the World Series for your
Alzheimer’s symptoms. We’re running a soccer tournament. At least blame the MLS
playoffs or something we can relate to. Not something boring like baseball. And
you should probably bribe us with beer or something too. Happy tournament
officials make a happy tournament.

Our tournament headquarters are in a trailer behind Kasch field 3 (and now it
sounds like we're some sketchy dude with FREE CANDY plastered across his
van...we assure you we're not). The trailer is there to house our hardworking
administrators, field marshals, and referees. If you would like to report your
score directly to headquarters, you may. But that had better be the only reason
you open the door of our trailer to let all of the heat out. We don’t want to
hear you complain about one of our hard-working, highly trained, and overworked
referees. We don’t want to hear all about how the other team is totally a
select team (I don’t understand where the fuck this comes from. There’s a
conspiracy among select teams to ruin the tournaments of rec players? The
Joker’s coaching a select team and just wants to watch Turkey Shoot burn?
Seriously. Think before you open your food-hole and vomit words all over our
goddamn trailer). We don’t want to hear you complain about your early game.
Twenty other teams had to play that morning and they’re not whining like
spoiled little brats. Don’t ask if you can have some food. You can’t. Get in,
give us your score, compliment the tournament or us (yes, we accept compliments
as bribes for more time in the heated trailer. Deal with it), and get the fuck
out.

Seriously, if you bring your mangy mutt to the fields we’re going to dognap it
and turn it into a goddamn muff. Well…maybe not. But we’re going to boo you and
throw dog shit at you. See how we turned that one around? Don’t fuck with us.

If you park in an area that is coned off as a no parking area, don’t get your
panties in a bunch if our referee assigner Victoria calls you a douchebag. You
are one. Deal with it.

We are always a bit saddened when we have to address this point, but it always
seems to be necessary…for the love of God, don’t say something racist to the
kids on the other team. You are a parent and a role model for fuck’s sake. What
in the actual fuck is so wrong with your brain that you think this is okay?
They’re fucking kids, you sick fuck! Be the bigger person, literally and
figuratively, and leave your idiotic bigotry at home. We have no need for it.

We are also
generally saddened by grown men who harass 13-year-old referees. Are you
fucking kidding me? You're a big man, telling that 13-year-old off. The real
reason your team lost the game is not because your referee let the other team
push you. For fuck's sake, are you coaching a team of nancys? Soccer is a
contact sport, and the reason your team lost is because they have a coach who's
more interested in bitching and moaning about how everything is SO unfair -
instead of sacking up and actually coaching. They somehow think Lindsay (who is
all-knowing and all-powerful during this weekend - basically a demi-god) won't
find out. They also think Lindsay won't rip them a new asshole in front of
their entire team, citing examples XYZ as to why you're an ass-hat, and then
she tells you to get the fuck out of her face - and you DO it, because all you
really are is a little bitch. Seriously though, this has happened a few times,
and it was as awesome and entertaining to watch as it sounds.

The tournament’s rules are not the same as seasonal play. Please read your
rulebook and note the differences. That's um, why we distribute rule books. If
a rule is not to your liking, such as 5 players a side for U-8 games instead of
the seasonal 4, shut the fuck up about it. This isn’t the fucking World Cup. We
are not attempting to revolutionize the entire game of soccer in order to ruin
your child’s youth. We are trying to run a fun and efficient tournament for the
community. Before you complain about something as miniscule as this, ask
yourself this question: “Is my 7-year-old going to worry more about an extra
player on the field, or what mud puddle she’s going to jump into next?”
Perspective, people. Get some.

DO. NOT. BRING. YOUR. DOG. TO. THE. FIELD. YOU. FUCKING. TWAT.

If you simply pay attention to these guidelines, we should have a fun-filled,
smooth, and exciting tournament in a few weeks’ time. We hope you have as much
fun participating in the tournament as we have running it. Thank you and we
look forward to seeing you all very soon!

About

We're the Bowyers; a ridiculous, yet surprisingly functional family that, for various reasons, all live together in one house. The two daughters, Lindsay and Sara, have decided to document all of the shenanigans that have ensued as a result of this living situation. You're welcome. Read our first post, GENESIS, if you're new around here.